The Head Spinner enters the classroom, her baton bloody on one end, and takes center stage. “The devil is always at work. Even here in the Cloister. Sharon is evidence of this. Maidens, you must guard your hearts against the darkness, against the evil of the outside world. Here, you are safe. Here, you are loved. Sharon has fallen from the Prophet’s light, dragged down by demons, no doubt. Do not follow in her footsteps.”
We huddle together, a mass of naked women, trying to find some sort of comfort in each other. Except Mary, who stands proudly with the Spinners.
“That’s enough for today. Spend the rest of the morning in prayer.” She turns on her heel and leaves.
“You heard her.” The teaching Spinner herds us to our dresses, then escorts us back to the dorms.
I sit on my bed, everything inside me cold and brittle. Sharon’s cries still play in my mind, along with the thunk of each baton, each kick to her side as she lay helpless and curled in a ball on the floor. Where is she now?
My door cracks open. I forgot to lock it. Chastity enters and closes the door behind her.
“Are you all right?” She sits next to me, but spares a glance for the camera.
“I don’t know. Are you?”
“I have to be.” She shrugs. “This is the way of the Cloister, the way the Prophet has instructed.”
“Do you ever…”
She looks at the camera again, then whispers, “Question the Prophet?”
“Yes.”
“No.” She shakes her head, the scar on her forehead more visible when she turns toward me. “He is anointed by God. You’ll see. At the winter solstice, you’ll see why he is special.”
“What happens at the winter solstice?”
“I’m afraid this wasn’t just a social visit.” She turns on a dime. “I have a certain chore to do today, and the Head Spinner has instructed I take you with me to do it.”
“It must be a bad chore, then.” I eye her warily.
She shifts, crossing her ankles beneath her skirt. “It’s not my favorite, no. But it’s necessary.” She clears her throat. “The Head Spinner also wanted me to deliver a message along with this assignment.” A blush creeps into her cheeks, and her discomfort trickles into me. I cross my arms over my breasts, as if this tiny defensive move can stop the Head Spinner’s wrath.
“Go ahead.”
Her kind eyes turn apologetic, but she follows her orders. “She says that you should ‘take note of the Chapel and how its whores act, since you’ll be one of them sooner than you think.’”
Chapter 23
Adam
The sun angles harshly on the motel room door, obscuring the faded numbering scheme for the rooms. But this is the right one. Heavenly Ministries owns a stake in most of the establishments clustered around the nearest interstate exit to the property, and Motel Rapture is no exception. The woman at the front desk gave me the rundown about Delilah’s mother, including her dirty little habit.
I knock and wait. Shuffling sounds from inside, and then the door cracks open. Blue eyes meet mine, though they are bloodshot and sagging around the edges. “What do you want?”
“I’m from Heavenly Ministries.”
Something like a smile splits her face, though it turns into more of a grimace. She’s only 54 years old, but she looks more like 70. When she swings the door inward, I finally get a sense that she really is Delilah’s mother. The same slight frame, a certain way of carrying herself—not too stiff, but with her shoulders back.
“Make yourself comfortable.” She points to the double bed that’s still made, then wraps her pink bathrobe tighter around herself as she sits on the other mattress.
I keep my body language open, resting my elbows on my thighs as I lean forward. “I’d like to start by saying that your daughter is safe.”
Her eyes narrow. “I don’t believe you. Your cult has gone and brainwashed her.”
“I can assure you that’s not the case.”
“Then why isn’t she here? Tell me that, smart guy.” She reaches for a pack of cigarettes on the nightstand.
“The program she’s in is an intensive, year-long immersion in biblical living.” I try to keep some sort of warmth in my tone, even if my words are robotic lies. “We take care to ensure that each of the program participants is given the chance to experience the Word of God firsthand, on their own terms, and within the safety of Heavenly Ministries.”
“Sounds like a lot of bullshit to me. Anything that needs that many words is bullshit.” She lights up, taking a deep pull, the wrinkles on her upper lip appearing like crevasses in the side of a prehistoric mountain. How did this woman create the otherworldly creature back at the Cloister?
I lean back, watching her watch me. “Let’s cut to the chase. What is it that you’re after?”